Incompatible
by isntitbeautiful
Summary: Violence, destruction. Infatuation, passion. Hate turning to love. Love turning to hate. A relationship with Hibari Kyoya couldn't be defined as a fairytale love story. Hibari/OC  T for language/violence


"20000 yen?" Ayano paused and turned away from the ratty red punching bag, which swayed precariously on the hook suspending it. "Up front?"

"Pft. Of course not. After the job." The strange looking teenager grinned with his tongue stuck out, looking clearly out of place despite his attempt to blend in wearing the school's military green uniform. "So, wanna join us?"

"Join you?" The girl's multiple bunches swung as she tossed her hair lightly. "Whatever. I'll take the job. Just don't expect me to believe you're a student here."

Ayano sighed impatiently. Guard the entrance to their 'hideout' or whatever this was, they were the orders. She looked around the dingy, crumbling room to which she had been assigned. What kind of a base was Kokuyo health land? The place had been shut for years. She tapped the metal rod they'd given her against her other hand gingerly. Not one to use weapons, she had tried to insist it was more her style to engage in unarmed combat. Then again, who was she to argue? Ayano didn't care why or how they wanted her to do this. It was a source of income, and all she was waiting for was to take the money and go. Her conscience seemed to rattle against her skull momentarily. What if she was working for the bad guys? The thought was subsequently dismissed. _Bad guys? _They were hardly evil mafia overlords if they'd recruited their defensive team from a high school training gym.

The silence was broken by a dull thud from the adjacent room.

_Probably just one of the other dunderheads they've stationed dropping their weapon. _

"Yaagh!"

The shriek stood all of Ayano's arm hairs on end. _A fight after all? _

As though nothing had happened, a male with sleek, flicked black hair sauntered into the open space. His weapons were drawn, but his face was distinctly calm, content almost, as though he was on a causal summer stroll. Ayano, unfooled by his seemingly nonchalant attitude raised the rod readily. He stopped as soon as he sensed her presence.

The dark haired young man glanced momentarily at her weapon before flicking up to her face. "A girl. That's nice." His tone was ice cold, lacking emotion. It was obvious he didn't think it was nice at all. His intentions of getting her out of the way were clearly written across his features – whether she was a woman or a child, there was no mercy in his eyes. Ayano was similarly undeterred. It was refreshing to come across an opponent who didn't rubbish her into the ground based on gender. This fight wouldn't be a fight for pride with an 'I told you so' at the end; it was simply to win or lose. She glanced at the band on his arm. _Prefect. Evil mafia overlords indeed... this is a playground tussle. _

Ayano casually twirled the metal baton in her hand. The waiting had given her nimble fingers plenty of time to become accustomed to the weight and geometry of the weapon. In response her opponent drew out his own arms with a smooth fluid movement. Tonfas. Retractable. Textured with slightly congealed blood if she wasn't mistaken. And as an extra little _fuck-you_, a faint but ominous click could be heard as rows upon rows of spikes slid out of the already-lethal looking rods. Ayano's metal stick looked a score more pathetic in comparison.

Ayano's combat-trained mind slowed her surroundings as her instincts noticed that the male was already attacking. He wasted no time. The blood-tarnished metal clipped the side of her nose as her reflexes underperformed. Or more accurately, the tonfa violently smashed into the side of her face, sending sharp pain rippling through her nasal bone. Tears pricked in her lower eyelids at the sensation of an almost broken nose.

_Start paying attention, check... _She grimaced, smearing some of the fresh blood flow across her sleeve. The streaks of crimson on her green uniform gave her the appearance of a Christmas elf.

A second blow was coming; such was the force of the swing she actually felt the displacement of the air in front of the weapon. With a deafening crack of metal upon metal, she blocked the attacked with her metal rod. Although no damage was dealt the energy of the strike rippled through her in unpleasant vibrations. As though signalling the beginning of a very violent and agile dance, the clatter was followed by the echoing sounds of repeated attacks. The prefect was incredibly quick; Ayano was only able to concentrate on dodging and blocking his blows. Although urgently looking for a window to launch her weapon into his gut she was barely able to prevent the same happening to her. Her heart was humming with double-time beats and her breath had been reduced to short sharp gasps as she struggled with the last vestiges of her energy.

Finally a strike; changing tack she drove her foot into the side of his abdomen with a vicious roundhouse kick. The male barely lost his footing.

"Ugh!" White spots danced in front of Ayano's eyes as she was struck with a brutal uppercut to the chin. The strike smashed her teeth together and she felt as though her jaw had been forced through to her cheekbones. Another bone-shattering attack was all that was needed to send her arching dramatically to the floor, blood flying in specks and streams.

Ayano lay there tight-lipped, refusing to squeal anymore for the finishing blow. However the Prefect, it seemed, had more pressing matters to attend to; a subsequent strike did not occur. He smiled to himself in a creepily satisfied way, as though he was getting kicks from the massacre. Not bothering to stow his weapons once more he stepped over her, and continued through the jungle of smashed walls and broken glass.

"Fuck." Ayano exclaimed vehemently after a few moments silence, trying to spit the acrid mixture of blood and dirt out of her mouth before rolling over with a groan of pain. "There goes my 20000 yen."


End file.
